


Summer Nights

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beach Holidays, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Inspired by Grease, Lighthearted, Modified Dream Draught, Sexual Content, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 16:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15667131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: Hermione’s nerves are on edge at the end of the war. As she plans to attend her seventh year at Hogwarts to regain a semblance of normalcy, George Weasley offers her a chance to relax before going back. What she doesn’t expect is to find her peace during summer nights with a very different Draco Malfoy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, well, this is a thing that was not supposed to be so ambitious and, of course, it grew into something massive (you should see my notes document). I suppose we can call this the Grease-inspired Dramione story that we never knew we needed. And we have the Strictly Dramione FB group to blame. XD

This is the life of illusion,  
wrapped up in trouble,  
laced with confusion,  
what are we doing here?  
-Grease, Frankie Valli

“You really need to relax.” 

It wasn’t the first time someone uttered those words to her after the war, and honestly, she expected them from George Weasley well before now. He eyed her from her tense shoulders and sparking frizzy head all the way down to the way she locked her knees and always had her feet pointed toward her nearest exit. 

“Hermione, you need to relax.” 

She wanted to shout at him. She wanted to thrust her marred arm in his face and tell him where he could shove all his talk of relaxing. Instead, she clenched her fists at her sides and breathed in through her nose and out of her mouth in a steady pattern. 

“I’m not trying to make you angrier.” Only George would laugh after saying something so infuriating. “It’s just that I know better than anyone that you can’t let the tension get to you. It’ll make you ill.”

She had a hard time arguing with George. Him, more than most, understood her. They’d shared grief, they shared pain, they’ve shared being physically altered by war. But, dammit, he was really making her angry. 

He reached into his robe pocket and withdrew a small pink phial. “When things get hard, when I miss  _ him _ and I feel myself shut out the world, I take this.”

He shook it in front of her face and yanked it back when she tried to snatch it from his hand. 

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head. “Listen, I know he’s never coming back, and I know that you know that your parents are never coming back. But this, Hermione, this  _ helps _ .” 

“What is it?” She hissed the words through clenched teeth. 

“Patented Dream Draught.” He smirked and winked and completely ignored her rolling eyes. “Altered the recipe for nighttime dreams.”

“I’m not taking drugs-”

“Not drugs. A potion to calm your mind and allow you to relax enough to sleep.” He lowered his eyes between them. “And it stops the nightmares.” 

The nightmares. They were the worst. The war hadn’t been over for a month and Hermione was inundated with nightly reminders. Bellatrix Lestrange, The Snatchers, Harry leaving her to find Voldemort on his own. It all made her skin crawl. It made sleep impossible. It made the idea of returning to Hogwarts where it all happened absolutely unbearable.

“George.” Hermione closed her eyes and took in a short, shaky breath. “Potions only put a plaster on the symptom. It doesn’t fix the problem.”

“How do you suppose you’re going to fix the problem,” George asked shrewdly, “if you can’t function properly enough to figure out what you’re trying to fix?” 

“I know what I need to fix,” Hermione whispered. “The war, it changed  _ everything.  _ I need everything to go back to normal. I need to go to Hogwarts and finish my seventh year.”

George sighed. “And how do you intend to get through the year without sleep, Granger?” 

She wanted to shout at him and stamp her foot like she’d do to Ron. She wanted to complain about his behavior and say something snarky like she’d do to Harry. But, when she watched George and the way his normally sparkling eyes gazed at her without any light at all, she caved. Hermione held her palm out and grimaced.

“I’ll try it here first,” she told him pointedly as the cool phial touched her palm. “If it makes me bald or gives me unnatural strength, I’m going to curse you beyond the veil.”

George offered her a smile, which was rare these days, and nodded. “I find those terms agreeable.”

Hermione’s lips pursed. “I’ll sleep in Ginny’s room while she’s staying with Bill and Fleur. Do me a favor, George?”

He inclined his chin. 

“Don’t tell Ron or Harry?” She chewed her bottom lip and didn’t wait for him to agree before she turned from the kitchen and raced up the stairs. 

She stared at the phial for over a quarter hour. Before the final battle, she’d never agree to voluntarily drink a potion made by the twins, even one of them. But now, with George suffering and struggling to find his humor without Fred, she guessed it was harmless. Still, she never wanted to be  _ that person _ , the one who coped with potions and herbs. She wanted to be stronger than that, able to carry the weight of life and still make it through. 

But now was not the time for heroics, she reasoned. Now was the time to be okay, to be relieved, to enjoy a world that she’d fought tooth and nail to be part of. So, yes, of course she was going to try the Daydream Draught. 

She eyed the liquid warily as she uncorked the phial, and ran through a quick 3-2-1 in her head before tossing the liquid back into her throat and swallowing before she could change her mind. It didn’t taste bad, actually, and she was shocked to discover that it was more like fruit punch than essence of toad. 

“Cheers,” she saluted herself in the mirror as she tossed the empty phial among a pile of clothes in her luggage. “Sweet dreams, I suppose.”

Sadly, the potion did nothing to help her fall asleep quickly. She still suffered for a long while with remembering all those she lost and everything she wished could be changed. While she was settled on the memory of Draco Malfoy sitting in the Great Hall and offering her a brief, possibly grateful for her part in the war, nod, Hermione finally fell asleep. 

Her very next lucid moment was decidedly different to everything she knew in the past two years. Instead of a dreary Burrow, filled with sad friends, Hermione was sat on a bright beach watching strangers run around and splash in the water. 

It was most definitely summer.

And she was finally,  _ wonderfully _ at peace. 


	2. Chapter 2

Summer loving had me a blast  
Summer loving happened so fast  
I met a girl crazy for me  
Met a boy cute as can be  
-Summer Nights, Olivia Newton-John, John Travolta

  
  


Wherever she was, and she decided that it was somewhere on the coast of France because she’d been there as a child, the sun beat down on her golden skin. Miraculously, she was already wearing a swimming costume and sat upon a large, bright teal beach blanket. There were several families, maybe a few lovers, lying under the sun or playing games on the beach. Hermione smiled at the fun happening around her and even managed to catch a ball that landed just shy of her bare thighs and tossed it back to the blonde boy who smiled at her with his hands in the air. 

There was something familiar about the boy who silently requested her to throw the ball. But no, it couldn’t be, could it? He was tall, much taller than her, and lithe in a way that showcase the sinewy muscles below the surface. He was tan, lighter than her own darker skin but still sun kissed from the hot sun overhead. Abs for days, which was a nice view if she was taking her relaxation seriously (and, of course she was) and not at all objectifying. Perhaps, just a smidge objectifying given that her eyes lingered on his frame a bit longer than she should have. But, no, it couldn’t be… not here, not on the coast of France, and certainly not when she was supposed to be forgetting it all and relaxing. 

He called out a thank you as his hands wrapped around the ball, offered her a smile that made her heart do a somersault, and then went back to whatever game he was playing in the sand with said ball. 

Hermione, therefore, laid herself back upon the beach blanket, pulled a pair of wide-framed sunglasses over her eyes, and enjoyed the scorching heat of the summer upon her skin. The salty smell of the water, the laughter raging on around her, and the… sudden shadow over the top half of her body - what?

She sat up again and twisted her waist to find the source of the shade. There he stood, and there was no mistaking him, ball tucked under his arm and pressed against his hip, watching as her eyes rose slowly to his smirking face.

“Excuse me.” His smile could even be heard in his voice. “We seem to be short a player and you, well, seem to have some free time.”

Hermione scoffed. The nerve! This was her relaxing time. This was supposed to be peaceful. “I’m actually a little busy, you see,  _ relaxing _ .”

“Oh, hm.” He scratched at his chin, still with the smile on his face, and then rolled the ball to his other hip. “It’s just, you look like you could do with friends. And I so happen to be an excellent friend.”

She tipped her sunglasses down her nose, mouth open in disbelief at his words. “You want to add me to your game because you, what,  _ pity me? _ I’m alone here by choice, you presumptuous-”

“No, no, you misunderstand.” He was quick to drop the smile and replaced it with a rumbling chuckle. “I’d like to have more friends, since I’m such an excellent friend. Good deeds for the world, you see. And I’d like  _ you _ to be my friend, because you look to be an excellent friend as well, who is without said friends for what are certainly acceptable, and not at all, pathetic reasons.”

She stood quickly. Hands on hips. Glare, even though it was hidden beneath the sunglasses she’d pushed back over her eyes. “Just who do you think you -  _ oh _ .”

“ _ Granger?” _

_ “Malfoy?” _

In unison: “what are you doing  _ here _ ?” And then: “I asked you first.” Complete with fingers jabbing toward the other. “Stop.” Small smiles. “You first.”

And then, a fit of laughter. 

Draco held out his hand and pressed his lips together. So, Hermione took her cue. 

“I’m on holiday,” she said through the last of her quiet laughter. “Relaxing, as I said.”

He offered her a crooked grin. “Mother insisted I take time to collect myself. I’m also on holiday.  _ Relaxing.” _

“Who’re your friends, then?” She asked because they certainly didn’t appear very wizardly in their bright swim costumes. Even Draco on a muggle beach (she assumed) was wearing dark green trunks. She, of course, wore a maroon one-piece. 

“Not particularly friends, but not-not friends.” He gestured vaguely in their direction. “Just met them today.”

“You… you made friends with those people today?” She raised a dark brow over one eye. 

“I’m not as vile as you seem to think I am.” 

“Remains to be seen,” Hermione quipped with a small lift of her lips. 

“So, obviously I’m not here to curse or maim you, Granger. How about a game with me and my new friends?” 

She gave him another once over. He didn’t seem threatening, all things considered. His bare chest had a long, thick purple scar, but otherwise unblemished skin. No Dark Mark. 

It was the oddest, and most freeing, moment of her life when she nodded her bushy head and then dove for the ball he gripped onto. 

“You better not be pants,” she warned him as she sauntered away to the net where a dozen other people stood waiting. 

He came up behind her, laughing, and took his position. “Reigning champion of the day, I am.”

“Reigning champion of talking shit,” someone on the other side of the net called, and Hermione smiled as she raised her hand, tossed the ball, and aimed it right at his very handsome face. 

And then it was game on. 

Malfoy scored no fewer than four points. Several other members of her team, whose names she still didn’t know, scored one or two here and there. But the other team was savage. They were winning by three points. After diving and hitting and colliding with others for almost an hour, Hermione was up to try and even the score. Her serve. 

She stared at the ball in her left hand.  _ C’mon, just go over the sodding net _ , she pleaded with it. She wasn’t really a sporty person by nature, and so many eyes were on her as she fumbled to keep the ball balanced on her palm. 

A strong hand rested on her waist and when she stiffened her shoulders, she felt his body just shy of hers at her back. His skin radiated the sunshine it’s absorbed all day and he smelled like the beach, and sweet Merlin, as he spoke, his voice ghosted over the shell of her ear.

“You’re too tense here, at the waist,” he told her quietly as he swooped a chunk of hair off of her shoulder. He tugged at her body, trying to force her to loosen up. 

“Hold the ball closer to the wrist.” And his hand came up to steady her wrist and adjust her hold on the ball. 

“Chin up.” The same hand moved to her chin and gripped it in two fingers, lifting it higher. “You keep your eye where you want the ball to go.”

Hermione glanced back at him as his hand pulled away and fell onto her shoulder. His chest rumbled with a laugh. 

“You’re not very good at following instructions.” His hand slid gently down her arm. “Eyes forward. And you bring this hand back.”

He captured her free hand in his and brought it back toward him. Draco tangled their hands together and smiled against the back of her ear; she could feel his amused breath tickle the hairs around her ear. 

“Nice and steady, Granger.” As he lifted their joined hands toward the volleyball, his other hand on her hip tightened. “Move your arm just like this, once to line up and twice to make the hit.”

She didn’t realize he was gone until a breeze fluttered around her, and she was suddenly colder than she had been. She took a steady breath, tried to loosen her stance, and let her arm move up and down once, twice… and the ball hit its mark, right at the back of Draco’s head. 

“Ah, sorry!” She called as he ran a hand over the place the ball hit. He glanced back to her with a raised brow and she shrugged, fighting a smile. “Guess I was distracted.”

They lost by three points. 


	3. Chapter 3

She swam by me she got a cramp   
He ran by me got my suit damp   
I saved her life she nearly drowned   
He showed off splashing around

_ -Summer Nights, Olivia Newton-John, John Travolta _

  
  


It was the strangest thing. She was on the beach playing games with Draco Malfoy one moment, and the next, their new friends left the beach. So, despite a lifetime of hatred between them, they lay side by side on a beach blanket, relaxing in each other’s company. It was silent for a long while as they enjoyed the sunshine and smell of bonfires. It felt like hours passed before she felt a tapping on top of her thigh and glanced to Draco.

He was sat up, elbows on his bent knees, and staring down at her. She pulled off her sunglasses once again and furrowed her eyebrows. It really was a bizarre turn of events, this whole day. 

“Can you swim, Granger?” His eyes were so light in the sun and with the water nearby, they were practically a clear grey, almost blue. She found that she quite liked the shade.

“Yes?” She was afraid she knew where this was going. 

“Let’s go for a swim, then.” 

He stood, so tall above her, and then leaned down and grabbed her hands. She was hoisted from her comfortable spot on the sand and then rushed toward the water with her hand wrapped tightly in his. The water, despite being France (she suspected, but couldn’t confirm) was warm and welcoming to her feet and so she allowed him to pull her further. When she was waist high, she tugged at him to stop. 

“You know how to swim?” It occurred to her that he may not have lessons like muggles, of course. She found it surprising that he wouldn’t just use magic to get himself across any body of water he came across. “It’s just… strange.”

“Mother thought it was important.” He didn’t offer any further explanation and tugged her closer. “Fastest swimmer in Slytherin, six years running.”

Hermione founder herself laughing at his puffed out chest and rolled her eyes. This was completely ridiculous, but somehow she  _ liked _ this Draco. But, afraid she’d inflate his already large ego, she thrust her finger playfully into his stomach, which was much harder than it looked, and jumped away from him, splashing water on them both. 

He laughed at her then, a full smile on his face. “See that buoy out there?” When she nodded, he continued, “I’ll race you to it. Loser buys tea.”

Hermione thought about it. She’d never been a competitive swimmer, and really, she didn’t swim too often because of all the other things going on in life. Things she was determined not to think about on holiday. 

Instead of answering Draco, she ran ahead of him and dove into the water. Before her head went under, she heard him bark a laugh and say, “cheeky witch!” 

He was on her heels immediately. Fastest swimmer, he wasn’t lying. He was side by side, splashing in her face, and then took off ahead of her. She pushed herself, really wanting to win this race, but it was no use. As she kicked out, something in her calf twinged. 

_ Oh, bugger.  _

And then it snapped. 

Blinding pain bunched up the nerves in her calf and she reached for something to hold onto, but there was nothing there. So, she flailed, and she tried to kick but that caused worse pain. Her shouts started small and they grew louder. She hoped Draco could hear her as she desperately tried to remain above water. 

“Draco!” She tried again and she couldn’t see him before she plunged under the water. 

His arms wrapped around her middle and hoisted her above the water. She spun in his arms, legs straight out to avoid aggravating the cramp. She wrapped her arms around his neck and dangled there and he waded them into shallower water where he could stand. As soon as he touched down, his arms were back around her waist and he was whispering to her that she was alright, she was fine. 

“I’ve got you, Hermione,” he said quietly into the side of her head as his hand smoothed her wet hair. “I’m not letting go.” 

She quietly cried things like ‘ouch’ and ‘shite’ and unintelligible whimpers where her lips met his collarbone. If he was bothered that she’d practically climbed his body and held on for dear life, he never let it show. 

After several long, agonizing moments, he dipped backward to look at her face. “It’ll help if you move it. I know, don’t make that face. But, it  _ will _ help.”

She tested it and immediately regretted it as the sting shot around her calf again. She gripped him tighter. It sounded like he was holding back a small laugh. 

“I’ll move us closer to shore so that you can try to put it flat against the sand.”

And he did just that, holding onto her as she held onto him. In a few short strides, he gripped her waist and encouraged her to descend his frame. As she finally loosened her grip, she pulled back and was stuck in his gaze. It was even bluer here in the water than it had been on the sand. She gulped. 

His warm breath fanned her face and she tried to steady her hands as they slid, shaking, from his neck to his chest. There was a moment she thought, irrationally, that she might kiss him, but then he guided her the rest of the way to the ground and pulled away. 

“How does it feel?” He asked her, and though his voice has been confident and cool all day, it was suddenly low and breathy. 

She planted her foot flat and, while it stung still, it wasn’t nearly as intense as it had been moments before. Hermione smiled up at him, a blush on her face as she realized what a colossal baby she must have appeared to be, but he smile down at her and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. 

“Better,” she whispered, eyes cast down because looking at him was starting to make her feel these warm and fuzzy things. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought it was wrong that Draco, of all people, was causing these truly wonderful feelings, but she couldn’t exactly place why. 

“Good.” And he gave her that easy, crooked smile that made her legs feel like jelly. “Time for you to pay up, I think.”

A notch formed between her eyebrows as she chanced a questioning look at him. “Excuse me?”

“I clearly won the race and-”

“I nearly bloody drown!” 

“ _ Clearly _ a tactic.” He maneuvered around her to the shore and when was planted back on the beach, he called over his shoulder. “Cheat.”

“I did  _ not  _ cheat!” 

He grabbed his towel from the ground as she approached and began to dry himself off. His hair was mussed about his head and she wondered why he didn’t do that more often; he seemed so much more carefree that way. 

“The rules stated-”

He laughed and tossed her towel into her hands. “The only rule was that the loser buys the winner tea.”

“I didn’t lose.” She patted herself down and used a sly drying charm to try and curb a frizzy problem before it started atop her head. 

“I swam further than you,” he pointed out as he reached out for her hand. “Plus, I saved your life.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and, against all her better judgment, took his hand. 


	4. Chapter 4

Took her bowling in the arcade   
We went strolling drank lemonade   
We made out under the dock   
We stayed out till 10 o'clock

_ -Summer Nights, Olivia Newton-John, John Travolta _

  
  


“Uh, Draco?”

She wasn’t sure he knew where he was. It was bright. It was loud. It was a bowling alley. People,  _ muggles _ , were throwing large black balls at ten white pins. And he didn’t even blink. 

Bizarre didn’t start to cover it. 

“Yes, Hermione?” 

He stood at a tall counter and glanced down at her feet before looking at the young teen boy behind the counter and gave him two different numbers. The worker slapped two pairs of ridiculous looking shoes on the counter and held out his hand.

“Two quid,” he said nasally, shortly. 

“Uh…  _ Draco _ ?” She tried to keep her voice from the shrill tone it could be and instead tried for strained. 

Draco thrust the shoes into her hand and smiled. 

“Yes,  _ Hermione _ ?” His lips quirked up at the corners and he led them to a free alley. “Do you require bumpers? Is that what you’re worried about?”

Indignant. That was the noise that came out of her then. 

“Alright.” He held up his hands and, despite his chuckle, glanced innocently down at her. “What’s the problem, then?”

“You’re… you-” she gesture around wildly. “Muggles!” 

“Shhhhh.” He placed a finger to her lips. “They don’t know what they are.”

“Draco!” she hissed in a quieter voice. “You’re  _ bowling _ with  _ muggles.” _

He smiled and then curled a hand around his chin, resting his hip against the alley machine casually. “Do you have a problem with muggles, Granger?”

“Do I-” she spluttered and shook her head. “Are you-” Hermione watched as he watched her and she threw her hands in the air. “Never mind.”

“Good, good.” Draco stood straight and clapped his hands. “You get your shoes on. I’ll go grab food. You like chips, right?”

He didn’t even wait for her to answer, just left her standing there, staring after him. Hermione considered for a moment that, perhaps, she was losing her damn mind. But, she wasn’t the one suddenly  _ okay  _ with the people she’d been  _ hateful  _ towards her entire life. What the hell was happening? Why was this so weird? 

“Well, this  _ is _ a treat.” A voice, not Draco’s, interrupted her meltdown. “Hello, Hermione. Fancy meeting you here.”

Bright red hair. Freckles. A cheeky glint in his evil ginger eyes. 

“ _ George _ !” Hermione gasped and flung herself around his middle, crushed him in a hug. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know your family was visiting France. Is it for Fleur?”

George raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re far more relaxed than even I could have guessed.” A laugh, a glance back to Draco at the food counter. “Have you forgotten entirely about the potion?”

“Potion?” And then it dawned on her all at once in all of its horrifying glory. “I’m  _ dreaming  _ all of this? Drac… Malfoy?”

“Oh, I think he’d have been here without your subconscious’ help.” George smiled. “I brewed a large batch of the Modified Dream Draught, and I also provided some to Malfoy. He’d been struggling, too.”

“Are you telling me,” she said with closed eyes and through clenched teeth, “that this  _ is  _ Draco Malfoy? He’s using the same potion and we’re…  _ sharing  _ a relaxing, dream holiday?”

“That about sums it up.” George nodded. “You’re very clever, Hermione.”

She scoffed. “I don’t know what to do with this information. That’s  _ actually _ Draco Malfoy?”

“Mmm, seems so.” George waved to Draco as he glanced back at them with a, now, definitely, uncharacteristic smile. “Y’know, he may not even realize that you’re actually you.”

“Oh, bloody brilliant.” Hermione sagged down in the chair behind her and put her head in her hands. She’d been drooling over the real Malfoy this whole time, and what’s worse, she’d  _ enjoyed it.  _

George patted her on top of the head. “Well, just wanted to say hello. I’m off to see Angelina at some gallery she’s looking at. I think Neville’s here somewhere as well. Oh, and if you happen to see Lee, tell him he’s a git from me, yeah?”

And then he was done and before she could even register having put on her bowling shoes or that she’d chosen a ball, Draco was back and holding a huge portion of chips and two yellow drinks that suspiciously looked like lemonade.

“Ladies first,” he told her as he pointed to the small screen where her initials were flashing. 

Hermione stared at him, almost willing him to realize who she was, really. But he stared back, unfaltering, and smiled. 

“You… sure you don’t need bumpers?” He quirked an eyebrow. 

More indignant noises issued from the back of her throat as she spun and grabbed her ball. When she tossed it down the lane, it immediately went into the gutter and a big 0 appeared next to her initials.

“Do you-”

“I know how to bowl.” She hissed and pointed at herself. “ _ Muggleborn. _ ”

He laughed and shoved a chip between his lips. 

When she threw the ball a second time, she pictured George as the head pin, and scored herself a spare. She spun around and glared at Draco with a pointed, raised eyebrow and a smirk. Draco, in turn, offered her a slow clap. She curtsied. It was all rather ridiculous, but she couldn’t help it. And he seemed to like it, because as he passed her by, he let his hand touch hers briefly and smiled down at her. 

“I really don’t understand how you intend to win this.” Hermione said between sips of lemonade. “You can’t have done this before, and it’s not just something you pick up and instantly-”

All ten pins fell with a dramatic crash. Hermione dropped the chip she was holding. 

“Care to make another wager?” His eyebrows were high over his amused eyes as he dropped down next to her and stole the chip she’d dropped. 

It had to be beginner’s luck. Or he cheated. There’s no way he could be  _ that  _ good already. She stuck out her hand. “If you lose, you take me down the boardwalk and buy me one item of my choosing.”

Draco nodded thoughtfully and took her hand gently in his. “And if you lose, you let me take you down to the dock to watch the sunset.”

“What?” Hermione’s mouth dropped. “ _ You _ want to watch the sunset with  _ me _ ?” 

“Among other things, yes.”

Their hands clasped tighter and where Hermione’s eyes were determined, Draco’s were soft with amusement. 

He won, of course. A score that, Hermione was absolutely bloody certain, was the result of cheating. But, no matter how hard she’d watched him, and she could name a few additional traits of Draco’s she appreciated from watching him so closely, she couldn’t prove he cheated.

She couldn’t have done more than blink and they were at the dock. Draco placed a blanket beneath them, and try as she might, she had no idea where he’d gotten it from. But, she sat upon it, just next to him, and sighed as the sun began to set over the water. 

“See, not so bad losing to me, is it?” His voice was quieter than it’d been all day. 

She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Suppose not. But, I still maintain you cheated.”

He laughed. 

Hermione glanced at him with a small smile and took stock of him. He wore khaki colored shorts and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow. Somehow, he looked like he belonged here at the beach. Like he’d been here his whole life. And she, in a summer dress and strappy flats, belonged with him. 

It was strange, it was obviously a dream, but it was not at all entirely unwelcome. 

“You’re… different here.” Draco said to her as his arm reached out and he planted his hand on the blanket just behind her. He reached with his other hand and tucked a chunk of curls behind her ear. 

She couldn’t stop the blush or the smile. “So’re you.” 

The purple and orange hues of the sunset changed the blues in his eyes to something almost otherworldly and she was lost in them. She barely noticed when his gaze dipped to her lips. She definitely didn’t miss it when his hand traced her jaw, laid against her throat. 

And when he was getting closer, she didn’t even think for a second to stop it. 


	5. Chapter 5

He got friendly holding my hand   
She got friendly down in the sand   
He was sweet just turned eighteen   
Well she was good you know what I mean

_ -Summer Nights, Olivia Newton-John, John Travolta _

 

His lips were soft like satin or velvet and there was still the leftover taste of lemonade on them as they pressed against hers. Hermione wasted no time at all deepening the kiss, slanting her mouth and meeting his tongue as it slid past her lips. The beautiful sunset was lost on her now as her eyes closed and he moved in front of her. His hands were on the sides of her throat, thumbs rubbing circles just shy of her ears. When she sighed into the kiss, he tilted her head back and kissed her harder. 

Her hands found purchase wrapped into the cotton fabric of his button up, fingers curled and wrinkling the material. She discovered a lot of things about Draco Malfoy then. He liked it when she made noises that told him she felt good. He  _ really _ liked it when her fingers grazed a nipple. And he positively  _ lost it _ when she grabbed his shirt by the collar and tore it off of him, throwing buttons all over the sandy beach below them. 

He, as it turned out, discovered things about her. Like, she’d make noises when he’d run his hands around her throat and through her hair. She  _ really _ liked it when he pulled away from her lips and suckled on the sensitive flesh of her neck. And she positively  _ lost it _ when he descended lower and let his tongue drag past the loose bust of her sundress. 

She curled her hands into his hair, longer than she’d remembered it, and tugged. He pulled away from her for only a moment before his lips crashed against hers. 

“Dra-”

He nipped at her lip and she whimpered. “You’re going to overthink it. Stop. Just…” He pressed his tongue against hers as he pushed her body back. Flush against her, his hands began roaming. 

Hermione turned her head to the side and swallowed a deep breath. “Draco, we’re on a beach. People-”

“There’s no one here,” he assured her as his hand slid down her thigh and bunched her dress around her waist. “Just you and me.”

“But how-”

He cut her off again with his lips and at the same time his fingers found the cotton lining of her knickers. Hermione’s fingers dug into his shoulders and she pulled him closer and closer until it was impossible to squeeze even a hair between their bodies. 

She wasn’t the type of girl to wantonly throw herself at a boy, on the beach of all places, and Draco Malfoy of all people. This wasn’t in her repertoire of social interactions that she’d mastered. Hell, apart from a little snogging here and there and maybe,  _ minimally _ , some light petting, she’d never been so close to a boy as intimately before. Somehow she knew how to touch him, she knew how to move beneath him, and scarier still, she  _ wanted  _ to.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered the words against her neck and slipped his fingers beneath the cotton. When she gasped at the touch, she felt him smile against her skin. “Is this okay?”

Not realizing she’d been holding her breath, Hermione panted and nodded her head. “Yes.”

It was all the permission he needed. His fingers moved as if playing an instrument, just as skillful as one needed to be. He stroked and rubbed, dipped and teased. His breath against her neck, the heat between them, and the awareness that they were out in the open where anyone could see, it all sent her over the edge so quickly that she barely had time to rock her hips into his hand before she cried out his name. 

“Draco,  _ Merlin _ , Draco,” she whimpered into his collarbone. 

She felt the rumble of a growl in his chest and gripped his shoulders tighter. He pulled back to look at her. She clung desperately to him with her eyes squeezed shut. 

“Hermione, love, let go.” Her hands slipped but he shook his head. “Your thoughts. Let them go. Let yourself feel this.”

She took a deep breath and moaned again as he gently moved a finger inside of her. As his thumb and his finger moved in tandem and created delicious friction that made her body move of its own accord, she practically chanted little sighs against his skin. 

“Yes,” his hoarse voice encouraged her. He said things like “beautiful” and “sexy” and she thought she heard him, for just a moment, reciting potions ingredients under his breath.

Her head fell away from him and her hips rose to meet his hand. She felt something else, something hard, on her thigh. Experimenting, she rubbed her thigh against it and Draco uttered curses against her neck. She quite liked that, so she did it again. 

“You’re killing me, Granger.” He pushed himself back on his knees and left her breathing heavy beneath him. “I want you.  _ Now _ .”

It all happened quickly; her knees were parted and her feet were flat against the blanket, his shorts were gone and he was cradled between her thighs. She thought, somewhere in the back of her mind where she could barely reach, that she’d never done this and wasn’t sure how to negotiate the situation. Part of her reasoned that she was dreaming, and so, this was a safe space. No one would ever know that she had casual sex with Draco Malfoy's nice doppelgänger. 

And as he pulled the shirt from his body, she was happy to make her brain see reason. He was sculpted in a way that was surely illegal. When he smiled at her openly staring at his body, she blushed and, in a daring move, reached out to stroke the trail of light blonde hair that went from beneath his belly button down to -  _ oh, Merlin.  _ Her eyes grew wide. 

She felt his abdomen twitch under her fingers and finally, slowly, brought her eyes to his.

“Draco, I don’t think I can do this.” It was a whisper, a sad and embarrassed breath rushed through slack lips. “I’m not…  _ that _ girl.”

“I know.” He responded just as softly before pressing his lips to hers. Draco’s body shifted just a little bit, drawing himself closer still. Hermione drew in a sharp breath. “I’m not going to force you, love, but if you could make up your mind before I lose mine, I’d be forever grateful.”

He chuckled as her face heated and turned a bright shade of red. 

“How much would you hate me if I said no right now?” She felt small, shameful for letting things get this far without thinking them through. Draco Malfoy was still Draco Malfoy, after all, dream or not. 

He put his forehead against her collarbone and groaned a low, defeated noise that made Hermione’s lips quirk at the corners. It made something coil inside of her, a pleasant feeling that radiated through her body. He didn’t move otherwise, just breathed deep - in and out - until he pulled his head back, hair falling into his eyes, and pinned her with the most alarmingly sultry stare she’d ever seen. 

“More than first year, less than third?” His lips rose a small amount as her face broke out in a stupid, couldn’t-be-stopped smile. “You’re beautiful when you smile. Stop, please.” But she couldn’t. He made the deep, desperately frustrated noise again as his head fell against her shoulder. “You’re bloody killing me, girl.”

Her hand stroked his back, taking in the feel of sinewy skin, so soft and solid. She wouldn’t tell him, but she thought he was beautiful like this, too. Not the hard, angry boy that she grew up with, but the carefree, doting bloke she met on a beach in her dreams. 

Draco rolled off of her and landed beside her, flat on his back. He covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow and sighed. She didn’t feel guilty for it, not really, but she didn’t want her first time to be here of all places, and even though  _ this _ Draco was a lot different than  _ that  _ Draco, he still wasn’t who she’d ever picture as her first. Hermione shimmied her hips so that she could pull her dress to cover her body and then turned on her side to face Draco. He used his free arm to loop around her and dragged her flush against his side. She really had no choice, not really, but to rest her cheek on his chest and draw little patterns on his skin. 

“I really don’t want this to end,” Hermione whispered against him and watched as his skin broke out in fleshy goosebumps.

He held her tighter and kissed the top of her head, finally pulling his elbow away from his eyes. “There’s a leaving do. A fancy dress party.”

Hermione made a ‘hmm’ noise, not really sure what to say. 

“Come with me there?” He asked her, and she might have imagined it but he sounded almost nervous with a small chuckle coating his words. “Let’s end this right. Come and dance with me before we say goodbye.”

She pushed herself up, hand curled against his chest and smiled down at him. She nodded and stuck out her hand for his as she stood from the sand. 


	6. Chapter 6

It turned colder that’s where it ends  
So I told her we’d still be friends  
Then we made our true love vow  
Wonder what she’s doing now

_-Summer Nights, Olivia Newton-John, John Travolta_

 

The beach house was decorated with balloons and streamers in a variety of colors. It was open and light and utterly crowded with people. She clung to Draco’s arm as they entered the room, not wanting to lose him in the sea of people. The whole thing was so drastically muggle that she found herself checking to make sure that Draco was comfortable every few steps.

He looked quite dashing in formal wear. Like most men at the dance, he wore a black suit, but what really made him stand out was the pale salmon colored button down that he wore underneath. Showcasing the tan on his skin and making his gray eyes pop with hues of blue. He was devastatingly handsome and Hermione, in a rare moment of self consciousness, fidgeted with the thin strap of her white dress.

“You should relax,” Draco muttered to her from the corner of his lips. “You look beautiful. Most gorgeous girl in the room tonight.”

She blushed and tilted her head down to look at the thin, white material that fell just shy of her kneecaps. Come to think of it, her tan looked pretty damn as well. She resolved then to get more sunlight when she woke up - she’d been avoiding it for too long because of the war and other distractions.

Draco’s fingers lifted her chin and when she caught his smile, Hermione couldn’t help returning it with her own.

“I’ll grab us a drink. And then we’ll dance.” He leaned down and pressed his lips softly, too quickly, against hers. She couldn’t move, just stared after him when he turned and walked away.

“Was that… _Malfoy_?” An unmistakable, disbelieving voice whispered behind her and she finally found the ability to move.

Hermione spun around and came face to face with Ron. His mouth open, eyebrows raised, drink clutched tightly in his fist.

“How the bloody hell did that come about?”

“Ron!” She grabbed him by his silky, blue lapel and then pulled him into a crushing hug around his waist. “What are you doing here? Merlin, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

“What do you mean ‘what am I doing here?’” He hugged her back and then pulled away to look down his nose at her. “Didn’t George tell you how this Dream Draught works? He didn’t tell me you’d taken any, the git.”

“Wait.” Hermione’s hand flew to cover her mouth as it dropped open in shock. “You’re really here, too? What did George do, feed his potion to everyone in the Wizarding - oh my _God,_ that’s Dean and Seamus! And Lee!”

Hermione’s gaze flitted around the large, crowded room as she recognized faces in every corner. A head of raven hair, a lot of ginger, some surprising faces that she’d never guess would earn the Weasley twin’s sympathy.

“All dreaming about muggles and dances and… _bowling_ , oh, _Merlin_.” Hermione whipped her head in the direction of the drinks, eyes as wide as they could go, and gulped when she saw his blonde head weaving around others to get drinks. “Ron, I have a problem.”

Her friend chuckled and nudged her on the shoulder playfully with his. “You’ve fallen helplessly in love with Draco Malfoy and you’re not sure what to do about it?”

She couldn’t admit that, not to Ron of all people. Though, it was oddly disconcerting to think that yes, that really _was_ the problem, wasn’t it? The problem was that her heart stuttered in her chest when the blonde approached her with his dashing smile and handed her a drink and made sure their hands touched when he pulled back. The problem was that her mouth went dry as he began holding a conversation with her best friend and actually made him laugh a _real_ Ron laugh. The problem was that, when he hooked his arm around her shoulders, she didn’t want to move away.

Worse, the real worrisome problem was trying not to think about what would happen when she woke up and they were no longer simply Hermione and Draco on a beach in France, but Malfoy and Granger in post-Wizarding War Britain. It caused a sick feeling in her gut and she didn’t much feel like drinking anything after it hit her. Instead, she nestled herself closer to Draco and made a face at Ron when he raised a brow at her.

“Potter’s here?” Draco’s words pulled Hermione out of her own mind and brought her back to the present. “Give him my regards, would you? I’ll never be able to repay him for what he’s provided my family.”

“You know I was there, too,” Ron said, though it wasn’t a winge and it didn’t sound jealous, it almost sounded like a friendly quip. “And so was Hermione.”

Draco chuckled and glanced down at Hermione. She found she could stare into his eyes for hours and always find new flecks of blue. “Do you want me to thank you the same way I’ve been thanking her?”

“Ugh.” Ron shook his head. “Bloody disgusting, mate.”

“Hey!” Hermione glared at Ron. Really. It wasn’t necessary and how embarrassing. “You didn’t find it so disgusting when you were snogging me in the chamber of secrets.”

Ron turned scarlet and had the decency to look at his feet as she scorned him. “I’m just saying, I don’t want to go around snogging Malfoys is all.”

“Cheers.” Draco knocked his glass against Ron’s and took a sip.

Ron left and, more bizarre than anything she’d happened upon so far, Harry stopped by to shake Draco’s hand. Even Lee Jordan passed them by and playfully punched Draco on the shoulder before hauling off to find George. She had to wonder how many of them understood the potion they’d taken, and why everyone was so relaxed about everything. She had an inkling maybe it was an effect of the draught, but she couldn’t find George again to ask.

The tempo of the music shifted from a fast and upbeat sound to something far more romantic. Draco’s hand left her shoulder and moved down her arm to tangle their fingers together. He didn’t waste any time pulling her close, moving her hands around his neck and then trailed his palms down her sides to rest on her hips. She was so close to him that her thighs touched his and she could feel his breath against the curls on top of her head.

He spun them in a meandering circle as his thumbs rubbed circles against the silky fabric of her dress. He’d grip her tight and then would loosen up, in no real pattern. Every time his fingers clenched around her hips, her heart sped up.

It wouldn’t be long now, she thought solemnly as the bright lights began to dim around the room. People paired off and clung to one another and Hermione found herself toying with the hair at the nape of Draco’s neck. She heard his deep intakes of breath but ignored them.

“You’re driving me mental, Hermione,” he finally said after they’d danced and she’d fidgeted through two songs.

“I…” she pulled her head off of his chest and glanced up at him. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. “I don’t want this to be over.”

Somehow, though she couldn’t possibly understand how, he drew her even closer to him and held her firmly in place. He didn’t say the words, but he didn’t need to. She knew, as clear as she knew her own thoughts on the matter, she knew his as well.

The music kept playing and they kept moving to it. He didn’t stop leading them in the dance even as his lips fell gently onto hers and kept demanding more and more of them to the melody of the tune.

Everything melted away as he kissed her and moved with her. Her heart slammed against her chest, her soul screamed out like it was ready to admit what this was and that she wanted it to stay the same.

But when she opened her eyes again, she was holding desperately to her pillow in Ginny’s room at The Burrow.


	7. Chapter 7

We take the pressure and we throw away   
Conventionality belongs to yesterday   
There is a chance that we can make it so far   
We start believing now that we can be who we are   
Grease is the word

_ -Grease, Frankie Valli  _   
  


“Where is he?” 

Hermione tore through The Burrow, her hair sparking with rage as she accosted every inhabitant until she found one George Weasley sitting at the table drinking coffee. 

“You. Great. Bloody. Oaf,  _ George Weasley!”  _ She smacked him around the shoulders, arms, and back of the head as he attempted to dodge her violence. “How could you? Why would you - oh, I swear to  _ all of the deities of the world I am going to murder you! _ ”

“Good morning, Hermione!” George gripped his mug and danced out of her line of Fire. His smile never faltered. “Trust you had a nice kip, then? Spent a lovely summer vacation on a beach in France, was it?”

His cheerful, cheeky grin only set her off further. Hermione launched herself at him, teeth bared like a rabid bear ready to take down its prey. 

“You know, we were all delightfully surprised at how you chose to spend your time.” George pivoted away from her and she went crashing against the counter. “Draco Malfoy, of all blokes. Poor ickle Ronnikins nearly had a fit when he saw you on the beach.”

“ _You_ \- he _saw_ _us on the beach_?” Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. “Which time?”

George grinned and then threw her a casual wink while he stole a sip of coffee. The noise that ripped from Hermione’s throat must have scared him, because George then turned about pace and scurried from the kitchen at top speed. 

“I’m going to murder you, George Weasley, if it’s the last thing I do!” She seethed, breath ragged, as she plopped herself down in a chair and buried her bushy head of curls into the crook of her arm. She whined into her skin, though the words were muffled and jumbled. “Oh, heavens,  _ he bloody saw us. _ ”

“There weren’t a lot of us who  _ didn’t  _ see you.” A voice laughed, and then a familiar body dropped down next to her. “I thought, perhaps, you weren’t  _ you _ and that George was having a laugh.”

Hermione glanced up to Harry and frowned. “You thought I was a figment of a dream?”

He smiled. “Wouldn’t you? Imagine you saw me snogging Pansy Parkinson on the beach. Would you believe it could be true so easily?”

She couldn’t help the way her nose turned up and mouth etched in disgust. “Of course, I-”

He leveled a skeptical gaze at her and she sighed. 

“Okay, fine. No.” She relented a small chuckle and placed her hands flat on the table. “Oh, Harry, I honestly have no idea what I was thinking. He was, well, er,  _ nice _ . And quite dashing.”

“Did you know that it was really Malfoy when you saw him?” Harry grabbed one of her hands and held it in his. 

He was always a comfort to her and how he could even stand to look at her after she practically had Malfoy, of all people, she’d never know. A small smile curled her lips and she shrugged. 

“Not really. Not until I saw George at the bowling alley and he explained the Modified Dream Draught.” Then she remembered what happened after the bowling alley and smacked her forehead down onto the table, much to Harry’s amusement. “I’m going to be at Hogwarts with him, Harry. What the hell am I going to do?”

He squeezed her hand and seemed that he was fighting off the laughter in his throat. “You’ll go to Hogwarts and you’ll be brilliant just like you always are. Besides, maybe he doesn’t realize that was the real you and then you can pretend it never happened.”

Her head snapped up and she looked about to cry with beads of tears forming in the corners of her eyes. 

Harry, for his part, seemed surprised. His eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline and he held her hand tighter still. “Oh.”

“Yeah,  _ oh _ ,” she repeated with a frown. 

“Oh!” Both teenagers turned to the sound of Molly Weasley entering the kitchen in a tizzy. “C’mon, you lot, time to get the girls off to Hogwarts. I can’t believe you boys are skipping your final year after the headmistress so graciously invited you back. Off to be aurors at such a young age, why I never would have-”

Molly continued her tirade for an hour until Ginny arrived home from Bill’s via the floo and the girls had their trunks ready to go. The Weasley matriarch scolded both Harry and Ron the entire trip to King’s Cross and, at least twice, demanded that they attend their final year for NEWTs. It made the entire journey to the train station much easier for Hermione. She listened to the boys defend themselves and express their excitement for working as aurors, and she enjoyed Molly’s praise for her academic ambitions. And she didn’t have to think about the blonde boy that’d be at the train station. 

She didn’t want to think what it meant if he didn’t realize she was real in the dream. And she didn’t want to think about what it meant if he did realize she was real in the dream. The whole situation was suffocating. Either way, her nerves overran every other emotion she  _ should _ be feeling. 

When they finally approached the barrier to the train, Hermione hesitated and allowed the others to run at the platform barrier before her. She hopped from foot to foot, trying to work up her courage to face  _ him _ . 

After several minutes and a lot of glancing at the ticking clock overhead, Hermione decided to engage her Gryffindor courage and charged the barrier. 

It was anticlimactic. The Weasleys were the only ones around, most everyone else was already loaded on the train and ready to go. The clock struck one minute to eleven and the whistle blew. Her palms were sweaty. Her breathing was shallow. She stared into the various windows and didn’t see any pale, blonde hair. 

“Get on the train, dearie, or they’ll leave you behind!” Mrs. Weasley shoved her forward and waved as Hermione stepped into the train. “Your trunk has been loaded, go, go!”

She didn’t have a chance to hug Harry or Ron goodbye. The train whistled again and steam began to pour onto the platform. Hermione glanced back to Harry and Weasleys one last time and then turned to go off in search of Ginny and a compartment. 

She’d barely gotten three steps into the corridor when a solid body collided with her. She held her breath as she took in that familiar hair and then the gray eyes with hues of blue that had her so enraptured only hours ago. 

“ _ Hermione?” _

_ “Draco?” _

Her face split into a wide smile and his followed suit. She wondered, then, if he knew, but never got the chance to ask. Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini strolled up behind him, each staring at her quizzically. 

“Granger,” Blaise said as he finally allowed her out of his gaze. “Draco, we’ve found a compartment. Coming?”

“I-I’ll see you around,” Hermione told him in a quiet voice. She’d find Ginny and she’d pretend that this never happened. Clearly it could never work; her fiends experienced the change in them, but  _ his _ \- they would never understand. 

She made to maneuver around them, but Draco captured her hand in his. “Granger?”

Hermione cringed at the use of her surname and hesitated before she let herself catch his eyes again. He smiled, a small and crooked thing that lifted one corner of his lips. The same smile he gave her at the beach. Her pulse quickened. 

This was Draco from the beach. And she knew, knew without a doubt, that he  _ knew _ she was Hermione from the beach. Her heart soared as his friends walked away and he leaned down to whisper in her ear. 

“See you around.” He squeezed her fingers and turned away. When Draco walked away, Hermione realized that she held a piece of parchment in her hand. She smiled down at it as she read: 

_ More than first year, less than third.  _


End file.
